


Just For Us

by ebbj9891



Series: In Quest Of Something [47]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, POV Brian Kinney, Relationship Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:51:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebbj9891/pseuds/ebbj9891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian and Justin go shopping for a new bed and come to a surprising agreement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just For Us

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up on a minor plot point from Collection (the new 'rule' Brian alludes to in Chapter Three) and is set a few months before that story takes place. I was tempted to explore their new arrangement a little bit more, and I also just needed to write something drastically fluffier!

"Brian, come _on,_ " Justin laments, rolling his eyes at me. "I don't even know why we're having this conversation. It was clearly your fault!"

As he drags me bodily through our hellish surroundings (AKA the third furniture store we've visited today), I demand, "How the fuck was it my fault?"

Justin reels around and shoves me, eyes wide. "Watch your language!"

"Why, because you brought me to Stepford Central?"

Of all the stores we've been to, this one is the worst. It's sickeningly wholesome and overwhelmingly hetero. Honestly, If I'd known bed shopping was going to be so insufferable, I would have made damn sure not to break the bed to begin with. It's not just the hoards of straight couples with their 2.5 anklebiters milling around that's spoiling my mood, it's the sea of missed opportunities that's all around. I look around at the rows and rows of empty beds and wrinkle my nose. It's depressing being surrounded by surfaces made for fucking when fucking isn't a possibility.

"Stepford or no, there are children present," Justin hisses, jerking his head towards a couple with twins who are browsing nearby. The father is glaring at me, either because I'm vulgar or a fag. Or a vulgar fag. I glare right back until Justin grabs my sleeve and drags me away. "Behave yourself, will you?"

"Just as soon as you explain how it's my fault," I growl, looping an arm around his waist. He hauls me over to a different section of beds, far away from the glowering homophobe, where the price tags are starting to resemble phone numbers. They do look sturdy, though, and a fuck of a lot more comfy than the couch we've been sleeping on since we (or I, apparently) reduced the bed to little more than a pile of rubble earlier in the week.

Justin extracts himself from my arms and sits down on one of the beds. He bounces up and down experimentally, then says casually, "Well, to begin with, you were on top, showing off like you  _always_ do. _"_

 _"_ Showing off?!"

"Showing. Off." He arches a brow at me. "Don't even bother denying it. And secondly-"

"Who bought the bed?"

Justin shrugs, smoothing his hand over the white duvet. "You did."

"Bullshit, you chose it."

"You paid for it on _your_ credit card. _You_ signed the delivery slip. There's a paper trail to prove it! My involvement - my _alleged_ involvement - is off the books." He raises his hands, the very picture of innocence. "Besides, the bed was never the problem. It was a perfectly fine bed until you started using and abusing it."

"I seem to recall the both of us being in it when it broke. What's that saying? It takes two to-"

"Break a bed in half?" Justin ducks away from the smack I aim at his head. "You were on top, and you were being incredibly rough."

"Does the phrase 'supply and demand' mean anything to you?"

He laughs and jumps up. "This one's too ornate."

"Okay, Goldilocks." I follow him to the next one. "Remind me, whose idea was the fivesome that took place three weeks ago?"

Justin coughs and avoids my gaze. I lean in and whisper, "Don't you think five in the bed may have compromised its structural integrity just a little?"

"Prove it," he scoffs. "What do you think of this one?"

"Hard to tell without taking it for a test run," I say, slipping my hands into his back pockets. Justin snickers and tilts his head to one side, letting me kiss his neck. "Go on, get in."

Someone nearby coughs pointedly. It's the prim and primitive moron who was glaring at me earlier - oh, and surprise, surprise; he's still glaring. Justin squirms out of my embrace and starts feeling up the bed's wooden headboard, when he should be feeling me up. I glare back at Daddy Dearest until he finally chickens out and scampers off after his Stepford bride and their spawn.

"I like this one," Justin says, touching the linens. "Do you like this one?"

"Sure."

"I think this is the one," he smiles to himself. "It's oak, and look how sturdy it is. I'd be _amazed_ if you could break an oak bed."

Apparently he's a goddamned mind-reader; instantly, Justin spins around and points his finger at me accusingly. "That was _so not_ a challenge, Brian Kinney. Don't you dare go trying to break this bed - it had better last us a lifetime for how much it costs."

"I wouldn't dare," I promise, then add with a smirk, "But accidents happen, don't they?"

"They'd better not," Justin glances around. "Is that shithead gone?"

"He ran off after his nuclear nightmare."

"Good." Justin grins and tugs on my shirt, pulling me in for a kiss. I back him up against one of the bed's posters and return my hands to his back pockets, which is close enough to where they belong.

When he pulls back for a breath, I lean my forehead against his and suggest, "Maybe this one should just be for us."

"Maybe what should be just for us?"

"Your precious oak bed, in all its sturdy glory. Why not save it for just us two?"

Justin frowns and presses the back of his hand to my forehead. "Are you feeling okay? Did you hit your head when the bed broke?"

"Ha. Ha." I glower at him. "I was being serious."

He peers at me curiously, then laughs, "Wow, so this must mean that you're like...  _really_ into me."

"I love you, you little shit," I growl, hauling him right up against me. "And don't pretend like you don't love this idea. I know how much you get off on commitment."

"So do you," Justin says smugly, pulling on my collar. "Deny it all you like, but I know you have a total hard-on for monogamy."

"We're still fucking other men," I remind him, then pat the mattress pointedly, "Just not here."

"Yeah, well, you may not be monogamous with monogamy, but it's certainly one of your favourite playthings lately," he says, smiling smugly at me. I pull a face at him and pick up the price tag. Justin eyes it and shrugs. "My treat?"

"I thought I was at fault."

"You were being," he glances around at all the picture-perfect families shopping nearby and lowers his voice, "Pretty rough, but let's be honest - I was the one begging for it, wasn't I?"

That sends a flare of heat right through me. Justin obviously knows what effect his words have on me, judging by the way he bites his lip, his eyes alight. I lean in close and warn him in a hush, "Watch it, you fucking tease, or I'll throw you down on that bed and take it for a test run right here, right now. Do you really want to be responsible for traumatising all of these sweet, innocent heteros and their tiny untarnished children?"

Justin grins wolfishly, but shoves me away lightly before I can make good on my threat. "I'll find the sales guy."

I grab his wrist before he can go. "Let's say it was my fault."

He gasps dramatically and clutches his heart. " _You're_ admitting fault?"

"Let's just say it was," I run my thumb over his palm, smiling as his fingers curl around it. "I ought to make it up to you."

"You definitely ought," Justin grins, laughing softly as I draw him in close again.

"Definitely. So just as soon as you've found the sales guy and bought the bed, make sure your calendar is clear," I say, brushing his hair out of his face. "I intend to spend all weekend on this."

Justin kisses me, and I can feel him smiling against my mouth. "That's a good start."

**The End**


End file.
